This is the new blog...CONFESSION ZERO
Showing posts with label impeachment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label impeachment. Show all posts

ANGER AND INDIGNATION

The idea for the poem below the incredibly powerful video (first 4 and a half minutes), ANGER AND IN-DIG-NATION by Dr. Ryman, began with a comment I read on The Existentialist Cowboy's post about Petraeus' testimony before congress. The words, by Diane B The Gemini Scrolls, are quoted below:

"You are right Len, these characters that are running our government, have committed so many horrendous crimes, and need to be in prison if not worse. It appears this is not going to happen with this Congress, will it ever, who knows?"

I highlighted the four simple words, only four, sometimes my muse prefers more, but I latched on to those four and could not wipe them from my mind. This fact is not to take away from Diane's full comment which certainly has some teeth. I suppose my muse is to blame for the most part since things usually don't stay in my head for more than a few minutes.


The four words called out to me and stayed with me and I do hope that this poem and video call out and stay with you. I hope they call to you, cry out to you, reverberate in you, highlighting your anger toward such crimes and in some way allows you to filter the rage and turn your indignation into much needed, coherent action...

Sincerely,
Mark (thepoetryman)




War delivers something significant
Overlooked in our hurry;
Blindness of its reach
Leading demons to our bed.

Our minds see too late the sacrificed
In its jaws or upon its talons
With “This war, this lie will echo,”
Stomping inside our heads.

There’s not room for much else,
Shrapnel has invited itself in
And eats our guilt with a shovel,
Burrowing to our center.

Another soldier, a child,
Who believes himself impenetrable
Is taken to soil for our charade,
Cold and ashen now.

Where is the anger
For having been wed to this legion,
For standing motionless
As deceit commits so many?

Where’s the indignation?
What have we sacrificed to the ground?
Do we believe we’ve ducked its swipe
And come out unsoiled on the other side?


Now, after we’ve learned, will we
Snuggle up to precious war
And kiss its beneficiaries,
Too afraid to die?


War bends for no one, save for utter defeat.
These are the days of our significance,
These we live, so grab the warring shovel
And bury it of its damnable use!


© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman


Join in on the impeachment matrix!



h/t to Betmo of Life's Journey


For instructions:



1.- Copy and paste this message as a new post on your own blog.

2. - Replace one of the “Impeach NOW” tags in the matrix below with your anchor text (Blog name) of choice with your blog’s URL (Don't hesitate to e-mail me if you have questions about this!). Please keep anchor text to a max of 3 words to keep the matrix size manageable.

3. -
Encourage and invite your readers to do the same and soon this can grow virally.

4.- The above steps will not only add your voice to the chorus for impeachment, but will also increase your Technorati stats as an added bonus.


We, the undersigned bloggers of America, agreeing that dissent is the truest form of patriotism, hereby publicly voice our unanimous discontent with the Bush administration and beseech the Congress of the United States of America to provide redress by immediately initiating impeachment proceedings against George W. Bush and Richard Cheney.

Left in Aboite Fort Wayne Left Left of Centrist Monticello America Weeps Get Your Own Der Parson's Rant The Katrinacrat Let's Talk About It Carol for Peace Divided States bu$hmeriKa Dizzy Dayz Anti-bush pro-usa States-a-Mind Life's Journey A Poetic Justice The Peace Tree ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW ImpeachNOW

PIG ON THE SPIT


I awoke to the smell of rotting flesh wafting from the confines of DC
And I called Nancy to make sure I wasn’t in some waking dream.

An assistant answered and sounded rather rushed,
Yet with a pleasant tone. I asked if they were perhaps roasting a pig and had forgotten about it and left it on the spit .

There was a moment of silence on the other end.
I assumed she had run outside to make sure that this was not the case,
or she didn't... my words comprehend.

About a minute later the assistant was on the phone
Reassuring me that the smell was not that of an old pig on the spit
But was coming instead from the Oval Office.

She told me she would alert Nancy of the smell as Nancy has lost some most
of her olfactory senses due to an old college injury;
Something about an initiation into a sorority, or some such nonsense.

I thanked her for checking and she thanked me for calling.

My nose works just fine. Sometimes I wish I had Nancy’s smeller.


This information comes to us from Proud Progressive @ Some Notes On Living
SPEAKER PELOSI IS TAKING TALLY FOR IMPEACHMENT

House Speaker Pelosi’s office is taking calls voting for Impeachment of Bush/Cheney at 202-225-0100
HERE IS A LIST OF TOLL FREE CAPITOL HILL SWITCHBOARD NUMBERS:
1 (800) 828 - 0498
1 (800) 459 - 1887
1 (800) 614 - 2803
1 (866) 340 - 9281
1 (866) 338 - 1015
1 (877) 851 - 6437



Thank Liberally Mirth for the alert...

DETACHED FROM REALITY

(Ben Heine - Cartoons)

...when Feingold stood up and advocated censure -- based on the truly radical and crazy, far leftist premise that when the President is caught red-handed breaking the law, the Congress should actually do something about that -- the soul-less, oh-so-sophisticated Beltway geniuses could not even contemplate the possibility that he was doing that because he believed what he was saying. Beltway pundits and the leaders of the Beltway political and consulting classes all, in unison, immediately began casting aspersions on Feingold's motives and laughed away -- really never considered -- the idea that he was motivated by actual belief, let alone the merits of his proposal.

That's because they believe in nothing. They have no passion about anything. And they thus assume that everyone else suffers from the same emptiness of character and ossified cynicism that plagues them. And all of their punditry and analysis and political strategizing flows from this corrupt root.

Not only do they believe in nothing, they think that a Belief in Nothing is a mark of sophistication and wisdom. Those who believe in things too much -- who display political passion or who take their convictions and ideals seriously (Feingold, Howard Dean) -- are either naive or, worse, are the crazy, irrational, loudmouth masses and radicals who disrupt the elevated, measured world of the high-level, dispassionate Beltway sophisticates (James Carville, David Broder, Fred Hiatt). They are interested in, even obsessed with, every aspect of the political process except for deeply held political beliefs -- the only part that really matters or that has any real worth.
(Read the whole post.)


When I heard about the coming war,
The occupation of Iraq,
I dug up a beautiful rock from my yard, a buried wish.

I picked it up out of the dirt,
Polished it vigorously
And held it up toward the bright midday sun.

I then observed the star
Rudely abandon my offering
And round up the clouds; his cheerless band of thieves.

I asked him why he was not pleased,
Wasn’t the rock pretty enough?
He just wrinkled his mug and stepped behind the haze.

I was hurt, but more determined,
I knew that war would incinerate the children;
Iraq’s pristine treasures hunkered down in trembling.

So I dug up another rock and another.
I dug until my fingers bled.
I dug at a furious pace; time was not on my side.

Soon I had three hundred rocks,
And no feeling in my hands.
Again I offered them to the veiled and sneering sun.

Again the superlative star mocked me,
And the clouds scoffed
Then commenced to spit upon my pleading expression.

So I dug and dug and dug.
I was a madman, digging up grass and flowers.
And, as I dug, the hovering mob threw down their noise.

Lightening struck now,
Yet I was determined to find the perfect stone,
I was digging for all the marbles; the kit and caboodle!

And, “CLANK”, there it was, a door.
A beautiful and brilliantly shining silver door;
A most curious thing to find buried beneath the yard.

The sun peaked through
Inquisitive of this amazing find,
Even the clouds ceased their scoffing and gathered near.

I banged the shovel down upon it
And a massive echo rumbled deep.
The blood from my hands dripped upon the silver frame.

I looked now to the sun,
“Is this magnificence enough?”
But before he could answer there came a thunderous knock…


© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman

Glenn Greenwald - Why the Beltway Class Can't Comprehend Russ

Feingold Bill - Redeployment From Iraq

Vagabond's "Denial as a Political Philosophy"

Previous Post - WAR STORIES

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